


Naming

by fuzzybatbutts



Series: Lessons To Be Learned [8]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games), Titanfall (Video Games)
Genre: AMAB Bloodhound, Abuse, Author's Favorite, Bruises, Caning, Dom/sub, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gaslighting, I actually really like this one it's fun, Kidnapping, Light BDSM, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Nonbinary Character, Other, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Violence, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 04:44:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20270206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzybatbutts/pseuds/fuzzybatbutts
Summary: After hours trapped in the dark, Elliott finally relents and tries to give Bloodhound what they want.





	Naming

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE PLEASE READ!!
> 
> So my beta and I have a discord now!! It's specifically for fans of apex who love dark fiction, so if you like this series it'll be right up your alley!! It was created since I got booted from an apex server for posting noncon so it's to protect us fans who the purity police deem problematic. Nothing is too far and there's specifically a blacklist channel for those of us who love the nastiest of the nasty. :D if the link doesnt cooporate, lemme know and I'll find a way to send it to you ^^  
https://discord.gg/xNkTyCV
> 
> Massive massive warning for psychological abuse so if that bugs you tread with caution. This one is a bit shorter but hope ya'll enjoy

When beams of yellow light finally sliced through the oppressive dark, Elliott didn’t even have the energy to cry out in joy. It seemed an impossible task to raise his head and turn his face towards the light he’d begged for, as his shoulders screamed in protest and his torso bloomed with bruises. He could see them coming down the ladder, walking closer with their face still hidden by the shadow. Blue lights danced under their skin, reminding Elliott of the fireflies he’d seen floating around during summer back home. 

_ They didn’t glow before… can they stop it from glowing? _

It was an intimidating sight. Instinctively, he tried to curl up in a ball to protect himself, fearing another kick to the head or his ribs being crushed under the heavy boots once again. All he could manage was bringing his knees slightly closer to his chest and tilting his head up slightly to look as they approached. 

He didn’t know how long he’d been down there in the cold, writhing around in the dirt and screaming his voice hoarse. He could remember himself shouting, but the anger behind those venomous insults and enraged demands was long gone. It felt like eons ago since he’d seen the light or heard a sound besides his own pathetic whimpering echoing in his ears. The light bringer was no angel, but the weight lifting off of his chest was enough of a relief that in the moment he didn’t care what it was. All he cared about was that it was something other than the nothingness he feared he’d be trapped in forever. The light hurt his eyes, but it was a good sort of hurt, burning away the panic trapped in his chest and clearing some of the fogginess in his head. “Ah Elliott, I see you are awake. You have been so quiet the past few nights that I worried you had broken beyond repair.”

Nothing good ever came with the honeyed voice that wormed its way into his head, but Elliott was desperate enough to hope that this time might be the exception. His tongue was swollen and his mind felt slow as he had to fight through clouds of exhaustion to piece together his thoughts. 

_ A few nights? I’ve… I’ve been down here... that long? _

Time had meant nothing when there had been no change in his surroundings. It felt impossibly long yet also hard to believe that it had been more than a single night. He’d only known time had passed by the aches in his body lessening and the blood finally drying on his cheeks. It was both a shocking and meaningless revelation, but all that mattered now was that the light had returned and he was no longer alone. 

They sat down on their haunches and looked down at him, a usually terrifying sight that had become one that made him want to cry in relief. He longed to reach out to feel the warmth of another person, but the working parts of his brain warned against it. 

_ Don’t touch them. I’m not allowed to touch them… _

“So, Elliott, are you ready to try this again?”

Elliott stared down into the dark and nodded, willing to accept the humiliation if it meant he wouldn’t be left alone again. 

“Get up onto your knees and face me,” they commanded, and for once Elliott had no intention of disobeying. Every limb felt shaky and it was painfully slow, but he pushed himself up from the dirt and slid his legs under him, knees cracking and stiff thighs protesting. He felt like he could be knocked over by the slightest breeze and knew he was shivering from the cold, but he swallowed down the ache and lifted his head to meet where their eyes should have been. They wore the same mask, black metal still harsh against the lily-white skin and silver hair, and the angry scar still carved out a home on their lips. It wasn’t a beautiful face, but it was the face of his savior and he was grateful to even be able to see it. 

“I will point out a wound I have given to you, and you will tell me  _ why _ I had to give it to you. Do you understand?”

Elliott nodded. He suddenly noticed with alarm that they had something in their hand, a long, thin piece of pale wood with leather wrapped around their hand for a grip. He did his best not to flinch as it traced its way up his thigh and over to his arm. It settled on the ugly circle of raised flesh where they’d shot clean through the skin and shattered the radial bone into fragments the doctors had barely been able to pin back together. They’d shot him the first day they’d met, where they’d spared him from a painful death in the arena after hunting him down like a wounded animal. He wracked his brain for an answer but didn’t understand what he’d done to warrant such an injury. 

_ Thwack! _

He bit down a yelp as the wooden cane struck him across the chest leaving a trail of angry red welts behind it. “I do not have all day Elliott.”

“It’s because I ran away from you.”

Elliott wasn’t entirely sure where the answer had come from, but it looked to be the one they’d wanted. They smiled and nodded. “Very good. Now try the next one.”

He swallowed and followed the cane with his eyes as it slid over to his other arm and down to his hand. It had healed stiff and he wasn’t able to grip things tightly with it anymore after the tendons had been split down the middle by their knife when they’d pinned it to a wall. It still hurt even after it had been healed. This one was harder to remember, but Elliott knew he had to give them what they wanted even if he didn’t believe what he said. “I tried… I tried to push you away from me so I could escape.”

They nodded but again brought the cane down, this time connecting with his thigh hard enough to make him grimace. “Concise answers next time, Elliott. I do not have the patience for you to stumble over your words.”

The cane stung horribly, worse than any slap he’d received and he knew they’d leave bruises behind. It moved up his neck and onto his face until they tapped it against the tip of his nose. “And this one?” they asked, drawing a line down the bridge of his nose with the wooden tip. 

They’d bashed his face against the rock wall for that one and completely busted the cartilage, leaving a white scar where the skin had split, and a bump in his nose from it healing. This one was easy, considering he’d made this mistake more than once. 

“I spoke out of turn.”

“Ah, you are finally learning,” they sounded genuinely happy as they spoke, none of the fake cheer he was used to. They stood up to move behind him, and tapped the cane against his neck. He could feel their eyes as they looked down at him expectantly. The bite mark, the one that was impossible to hide under his shirts and the one that people gawked at. Even Anita had been shocked to see it despite having some nasty battle scars of her own. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to say for this one, having done literally nothing wrong when they’d sunk their teeth so deep into his flesh he feared they’d rip out a chunk of muscle and leave him to bleed out. 

Elliott’s heart began to flutter as the panic seeped back under his skin and into his chest. He hadn’t  _ done anything _ . He’d been good and had just let Hound do as they pleased without trying to fight it. He hadn’t even  _ wanted _ to fight it. It had all just felt too good despite what they were doing to him. 

_ Thwack! _

Elliott cried out in pain as the cane hit him again, this time across the shoulders just below his neck. “Elliott, I know you can do better than this,” said Bloodhound, annoyance starting to creep into their voice. 

“I just don’t know,” he admitted, partially ashamed, “I don’t remember doing anything wrong. I let you do want you wanted and I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

“Are you asking for help?”

Uncertainty crept across his face, unsure if this was supposed to be some sort of trap they’d laid out of him. He had no real idea, and he didn’t want to know what happened if he answered wrong. “Can you help me?” asked Elliott.

Bloodhound paused to think for a moment. “I will allow you to answer that later, for now we move on.”

They pressed the toe of their boot into his side where they’d cracked his ribs from kicking him around in that alleyway. There was no scar, but it still hurt when pressure was applied to the bones. This was an easy one too, as every word from that night was burned into his brain. It had been the start of this whole nightmare and the first time he’d really felt the disgust that now almost constantly hung around him like a cloud. “I was too slow, and I tried to touch you instead of listening.”

They chose the white scar on his mouth next, the one that would become a matching set with the wound crusted over with dried blood on his other cheek. He was grateful it had only been the cut despite how much he loathed seeing it in the mirror, but their threat of taking his teeth didn’t seem so outlandish considering what they’d already done. The thought of him kneeling in that alley, in terrible pain, with no way to stop them from fucking his mouth made him shiver, not wanting to picture how much fun they’d be having if he really lost the ability to resist what they were doing. “I tried to stop you from doing what you wanted with me.”

They jabbed the bullet hole in his side from when he’d been shot in that hellish network of underground tunnels. He’d never known exactly who had shot him, but the initial wound itself was nothing compared to experiencing their fingers worming their way through his skin and digging around in his body. They’d seemingly kneaded the gas deeper into the tissues and it hurt like someone had lit his blood on fire. He remembered kissing them, tasting his own blood in their mouth and how he’d never been kissed like that before. “I didn’t listen to you. I was scared and I panicked.”

They cocked their head and looked down, but their expression seemed unreadable. “Yes, and then I had to go kill those poor boys in such an awful way because you would not listen.” They shook their head, “May their deaths be a lesson that I am the only thing you need fear, Elliott.” 

He’d never heard someone’s voice sound so cold. It sounded robotic, like there was nothing human left after they’d cut it out and replaced it with wiring, and covered their face in metal so there was nothing human in their eyes either. It was both a threat and a promise. A threat to keep him from ending up like one of those boys with their brains painting the floor and a promise of protection from people like them. He wasn’t sure which unnerved him more. 

Apparently feeling somewhat merciful, they stopped the cane just before it tapped the swollen skin on his face near where the knife had split open his cheek. It hurt and threatened to reopen when he spoke, but he was scared they’d push the knife further in next time if he didn’t do as asked. Hound slid the cane over to his lips and Elliott obediently opened his mouth so they could prod at his swollen and partially mangled tongue. “I talked back. I said awful things to you and I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry,” he choked out.

They sighed and withdrew the cane. “That was not so hard, now was it?”

Elliott didn’t recoil as one of their cold fingers traced the healed scar from the corner of his mouth and up into his cheek. “You know Elliott, I think these are my favorite. As I have said, you do look so  _ dreadful _ when you frown at me.”

Bloodhound chuckled and knelt down to be at eye level with him. An icy hand caressed his face and he leaned into it, so happy to feel someone else’s touch even if it came from them. “You did well Kærr, so I will tell you about the last one.”

Their hand gently moved down and around to the back of his neck where the scar was. Elliott didn’t dare move, afraid he’d do something wrong and they’d keep hitting him. “I gave this to you, so you would know you could never find anyone like me again, and as proof of my affection. Others will see it and know you are mine and mine alone. It will protect you and keep you safe from anyone who might try to hurt you. That is why I gave you such a gift.”

Any hope he had left that they’d just leave him alone so he could go back to living his normal life was dashed, shattered into a million pieces on the ground in front of him. Tears broke free and rolled down his face as he looked up into the uncaring glass hoping for some sign that they weren’t serious, or that they’d take pity on him and let him go, but found nothing behind the mask. 

“You look like you want to say something,” they noted, “Go ahead. I will let you ask one question, but only one.”

“Why…” he started, trying to push down the fear threatening to swallow him, “why did you chose me? I don’t understand why you picked me.”

“Oh Kærr,” they purred, tilting his chin up to get a better look at his face, “I will let you know  _ that _ soon enough. But, until then, there is something else you forgot to do.”

The blood drained from Elliott’s face and his mind scrambled think of what he’d forgotten and how he could ask they forgive him. 

“You look lost Elliott. It is a very simple answer.”

They stood up and took a step back from him, still smiling. “I have been gracious enough to offer you this second chance, and you have not yet thanked me. A small mistake, but still a costly mistake.”

“You didn’t say anything about thanking you last time!”

“Didn’t I?” 

Elliott paused. Had they mentioned it before? He tried to recall exactly what it was they had said, but his memory was unclear.

_ Maybe they did tell me and I just can’t remember. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve forgotten what they’ve told me _

They turned to walk towards the ladder without looking back and immediately Elliott knew what they meant. “Thank you,” he cried, reaching out a hand towards the light that silhouetted them, “I’m so sorry, thank you for letting me try again and thank you for giving me these gifts!”

The words felt like poison, but he spoke anyway, not caring about looking dignified. “Thank you for protecting me,” he yelled, voice rising to almost a scream, “Thank you for teaching me and thank you for keeping me safe!”

He was sobbing now, throat burning from the strain and fingers grasping at the empty air, but it was useless. Hound climbed partially up the ladder, pausing at the top to look at him. “Such kind words Elliott, but still a bit too slow. We can try again another day. Perhaps then you can prove you deserve what I have given you.”

Elliott watched helplessly as they climbed out of the basement and latched the door behind them, the clunking of the lock seemed loud as a gunshot as it echoed. All he could do was lay back down onto the floor and cry, hiccuping breaths once again filling the dark with sound. He vowed silently to himself that he would try harder next time. He would show them he could do better than this, that he was worth more than this. 

In the dark he traced the pattern of their cane from scar to scar and across the welts on his chest and thighs, whispering to himself the correct answers and carving them into his memory so he wouldn’t fail them again. He could do better than this—all it would take was a bit of practice, and down in the dark there was little else to do. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey kids it's me again. This one is shorter than the previous ones but I do have something wicked planned for the next chapter so as always keep those peepers peeled because I have three days off next week and have to stay up until 7am :) ah the joys of working the night shift 
> 
> I've started getting back into anime and I'm finally picking up Rise of the Shield Hero again because it's so good 10/10 watch it. Also to those who read these walls of text have ya'll ever heard of an anime called Blood+? I'm the only person I know who's watched it and it's def my favorite right beside FMA (the 2003 because I'm a heathen) plz someone else watch it. 
> 
> Anywhozles I've got more chapter planning to do and thank you to everyone who comments on these because ya'll are the light of my life. Xperience you get a shoutout because that comment still makes me happy 
> 
> And as always big big thanks to volatileSoloist for basically being my hype man as well as an awesome beta AND being equally enthusiastic about ruining Elliott's poor life. You're the best.


End file.
